


Blue

by ourlegends



Category: Repo! The Genetic Opera (2008)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, i really need to write new stuff, this is from like 5 years ago
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2016-09-19
Packaged: 2018-08-16 02:54:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8083912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ourlegends/pseuds/ourlegends
Summary: You see her for the first time, and she's still pure and unchanged and beautiful.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so, a note to start. This fic is extremely old -- about five years, to be exact -- and unedited since. But I wanted to get started with posting here, so I decided to repost this from ffnet. Just please keep in mind that I was a pretty young teen when this was written!
> 
> The style of this is based off a game I played at the time, "Blue Lacuna," which has a section connected by one word like this. It's intentionally written as one long sentence per scene, sort of an entire "stream of consciousness."

_**Blue** _

You watch with grotesque fascination as the color **blue** fills the small syringe as you creep through the land of corpses, still gathering for someone else at this point and you see her for the first time and she's still pure and unchanged and beautiful, knelt in front of her mother's grave with dirty blonde hair spilling over her shoulders as brown eyes gazed down at the tombstone, a small hand resting on the dirty ground along with her dress, a bright **blue**

glow from the vial clutched in your pale hands, held tenaciously above your head as her shorter arm reaches out for it as her other hand clutches at your long, dirty coat in frustration and you just smirk at her, but a small voice in the back of your head wonders why you keep doing this to her as her focus lies only on the **blue**

hair, her most outrageous choice of color yet, and you can barely stand look at it because you _know_ that it's not really part of her, that it can't be, and can't even pretend that it is like you could with all the other colors before, but not with the dark **blue**

shadows cast by the bright, invading moon as you lay next to her on the small bed, watching her still, scarred form curled in on itself as her breathing slows and you cover her with the tangled, pale sheets and it doesn't seem to register that you're trying to protect an already corrupted girl, running a hand through her dark hair as you glance out the dark window at the **blue**

and red lighting of the large, cold stage as you watch the opera from the giant screens hovering above, splashed with bloody crimson and it almost hurts you to watch as she is bitterly rejected by her father in his dying moments, and you wish that you could bring the bastard back from the beyond to kill him again - only this time in a way he deserves, not the way that seemed so painless compared to the other deaths as his white face slowly turns **blue**

eyes flash as she yells and screams at you in fury, and the tight feeling builds up into your chest with each ringing word until you finally can't take it anymore and you snap at her and she stops mid-word, taking a nervous step backwards before fleeing the small room and you wonder if this is why you stayed with her, to see the glistening tears welling up in her once rich chocolate brown, but now unnatural, prosthetic icy **blue**

-green gell covering her swelling stomach and she nervously fidgets as she lays with a gentle doctor hovering above her, and you can tell that she's nervous and upset and _scared,_ a word you rarely can associate with her and you gently squeeze her hand, giving her the privacy she needs and glancing away at the walls painted a baby **blue**

blanket that the the tiny baby boy is swathed in, and it doesn't seem to register as she cradles him against her breast that he's actually hers, actually _yours,_ that he was even an accident in the first place (and once again you are forced to thank the little glass vial), that you could actually ever be a father and he looks at you with tired and curious eyes, that while they will probably fade to brown as he grows, are still innocent and wide and **blue.**


End file.
